


Natural Progression

by TheIcyQueen



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fade to Black, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mercy Killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIcyQueen/pseuds/TheIcyQueen
Summary: "You loved her, right? Or maybe...you hated her." Sometimes, it's hard for James to remember which is which.





	Natural Progression

When they first met, it's as though he's struck by lightening. He hadn't wanted to go to the party in the first place, hadn't been up for the draining buzz of social interaction, but he'd been won over in the end, and just then he was thanking his lucky stars. Briefly, he wonders if it's strange to be so taken all at once, but he's suddenly terribly lightheaded and there's a lump in his throat, and he's barely able to remember his name as she asks him for it. Hers is Mary, as classically beautiful as she is, and he realizes all at once that this is the woman he's going to marry, someday.  
  
A year later, and he's still finding ways to fall harder for her. Poetry is beginning to make sense in ways he never thought it could, and somehow every love song on the radio is speaking to him on a personal level. When she smiles, it's with her eyes, and it shows through even when she's pretending to be annoyed with him. Her laughter sounds like wind chimes just after an early spring storm on the beach. And while she's not terribly good at it, there's nothing he'd rather do than sit and listen to her play the piano, her exuberance somehow taking away from the occasional flat note.   
  
The wedding isn't anything fancy--neither of them are overly fond of theatrics or showboating--but it's perfect all the same. It's as though, all at once, his world makes sense. Though he'd thought it impossible before, he finds himself thinking she's even more beautiful now than she ever has been. Their families are small, the reception is brief, and he's all the more thankful for it. This is their day, his and hers, and they're grateful that they'll have some alone time, after all.  
  
Both of them spend the last day just staring out at the lake, watching the waves and the wakes of sailboats that slowly drift by. It isn't until the soft white glow of the moon illuminates the crests of water that they head back into the hotel for the night. And even after that, she sits on the windowsill, looking out over the land with that quiet half-smile of hers. Tomorrow they'll have to leave, return to work and society at large, but that's all right. He kisses the top of her head and promises they'll both come back, someday.   
  
She had assured him it had just been a summer cold, caught from too many late night strolls, but he was beginning to have his doubts. The knot in his stomach had been lurking, leaden and icy, ever since the cough had started. All the same, he can't help himself but to smile when she laughs that perfect, delicate laugh of hers as his father addresses her by 'Mrs. Sunderland.' "I'm still trying to get used to that," she says with a secret smile his way, and there's no way anything can be wrong, the way her eyes shine. So they both lean back in and listen as his dad goes over the Sullivan case again, and for a few minutes, he barely even notices her coughing.  
  
He begins to lose track of time, after that. Doctor visits and hospital stays begin to melt together until he's not sure what month it is, what year it is. Through it all, she still wears that brave little smile of hers, though he's not sure which one of them she's trying to convince. There are more tests than he'd like, more medications than he can pay for, and a sudden, cold void in the bed at night. But she's going to be okay, she's going to be just fine. After all, it's just a cough, and the doctors will know what to do.  
  
He finds himself dreading visiting hours. He isn't sure what's worse--the way the doctors avoid his eyes in knowing pity and well-deserved shame, or the anguish of watching her fade away. There had been words thrown around, but the only one that had stuck with him was "terminal," and he wore it like a scarlet letter on his chest. But he stays through it all, holding her hand as she laughs, cries, comes to accept it, then falls apart again. Every day feels a little longer, her time a little shorter, and his heart a little heavier. He finds himself filling the time between visits with emptying bottles.  
  
He tries not to go anymore. He doesn't have the strength. She isn't herself anymore. She screams horrible things, unfair things. There are accusations that he's avoiding her (he is), he's been looking at the nurses (he might have), he doesn't love her anymore (he thinks he still does). She smacks his gifts out of his hands. She tells him to leave. Begs him to come back. Her hair falls out by the day. Her skin starts to slough away. She wishes she were dead. He starts to wish it, too.  
  
He tries to be happy when she comes home. It's a short stay, the doctors say. There isn't much time. So for a while, he pretends like it's the old days. He actually believes it, for a short time. He feels himself falling for her again, but that's a dangerous path to take. He holds her hand as she lays in their bed. When she's awake she talks of plans to take another trip. "You promised," she reminds him, but he hasn't forgotten. He finds himself wondering each night if this is the last. If he'll wake up next to his wife or a corpse.  
  
He can't do this anymore. When she falls asleep, he lets go of her hand. She isn't herself, now. She's not his Mary. He spends a long time in the kitchen, staring into a half-empty glass. He doesn't like the look in his reflection's eyes. He finishes his drink and leaves the glass in the sink, where its brethren are overflowing and attracting ants. He's so, so tired all of a sudden. He stands in the doorway to the bedroom, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. For no reason at all, he finds himself thinking of that day on the lake.  
  
He tucks her in, one last time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reupload from 8/16/13.


End file.
